TimeTurner
by Dark Pirate Nellie
Summary: Draco finds a time-turner in his house. He tries to shift events a bit to save someone he lost, but what if the tiniest change makes the biggest difference. Will the Dark Lord have a different ending? Will somebody else be saved?
1. Prolouge

Draco Malfoy had a time-turner. He held it up to the light of the setting sun and as it gleamed red, he realized what it meant. He realized what he could do.

Draco had just been wandering around the house, looking for something to do, when he had tripped over a dusty, old, cardboard box in the attic. It was brown and plain with worn out edges and looked extremely unimportant, but Draco, with nothing better to do, had opened it. He soon found out it was not unimportant at all. Inside the box were many magical objects, very small things, from the Ministry of Magic. Draco realized that his father must have brought a few things home when he had still worked at the Ministry.

When his father had worked at the Ministry. Everything had been great then. He had the best broom, the best robes, the best everything. Now those things didn't matter. He missed the times before the battle at Hogwarts. He missed when his best friend, Crabbe, and Aunt Bellatrix were alive.

He shook his head to clear his mind. He mustn't think about those things. The battle was over. There was nothing he could do. He looked through the box a bit more quickly. His hand touched something cold and smooth. It seemed to be metal and glass. He pulled it out.

It was a necklace. Why would his father have something so boring with other interesting magical objects? As he looked more closely at it, he saw what it really was.

How could it be? It was impossible. Potter and his friends had smashed all of these when they fought Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic. Lucius Malfoy must have gotten this before the battle at the Ministry. Of course he had! He had been arrested immediately after the battle. Before the battle…when his friends were alive. He stared at the object in his hand once more, probably the last of its kind.

Draco Malfoy had a time-turner. He held it up to the light of the setting sun and as it gleamed red, he realized what it meant. He realized what he could do.


	2. Lies

The light grew brighter, then darker, then brighter, then darker. Draco looked out the window to see birds flying backwards. Drops of rain flew out of puddles, into the sky. Dust slowly disappeared from the boxes around him. Clouds swirled angrily in the heavens. Then everything stopped. Draco had gone a few months backwards, to the day of the Battle at Hogwarts. He looked around. A few items had shifted around. The box he had tripped over was a few feet over. He pushed it to where it had been. He glanced around the room, then apparated into Hogsmeade.

He quickly ducked behind a tree. A Death Eater walked by. Draco would have to be very cautious. He could not afford to be caught. He needed to figure out how to get into Hogwarts without anyone noticing. He searched his brain for the answers. _Come __on__,_ _Draco. Think!_ he told himself.

The solution came to Draco when an old man stepped outside the Hog's Head and put his cat outdoors. Of course! Crabbe and Goyle had overheard two noisy Hufflepuffs talking about how the Gryffindors had started a hideout in the Room of Requirement, which now Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students now went to, too. When it had become too dangerous for some of them to leave the room and wander the rest of the school, they needed food, so a passage appeared leading from the Room of Requirement into the Hog's Head. Draco congratulated himself and looked around for Death Eaters. Seeing none, he hurried inside.

Draco immediately wished he had thought his plan out longer. He had no idea how he was going to get into the passage, never mind past the other students, into the school. Things got even worse when the barman approached him. At least he thought Draco had come in from the passageway, and not the door

"What are you doing here, boy?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be in school? You look the right age."

Draco panicked. What was he supposed to say? _Lie, Draco, you idiot._ He had always been good at getting out of trouble, but he hadn't had much practice lately. _At least say something! Don't be so stupid!_

"Yes…I'm a student. Well, I was." Lies were always more believable when you started with the truth. "I'm a Gryffindor." _Lie._ "Half-blood." _Definitely a lie._ "I have a nasty temper, and the Carrows got on my nerves…" Yes, he was doing well so far. "Well, the point is, they'll kill me if they find me, so I live in the Room of Requirement now." The barman raised his eyebrows. Draco realized that he wasn't used to hearing long stories. Most students probably just got to the point and hurried out. He covered up his mistake by pretending to just be a hyper, talkative student. "Nice weather we're having. Too bad for the all the Death Eaters though. Oh yes, why I'm here. We need a bit more food."

"More food?!" The man exclaimed. "I just sent back a 3rd year with food an hour ago! And why aren't you wearing school clothes?"

Draco swore silently for not thinking of Hogwarts robes. He easily could have put on his old ones, although they would have been a little bit short. He replied, "Well, ten more people have joined since, and they're starving. And my school robes were torn up when the Carrows were chasing me. So the Room of Requirement gave me these. It's a remarkable room. Did you know that it was the hideout for the DA two years ago?"

"Yes, yes, I know!" Draco was clearly annoying the old man. "My goodness, ten more people! Soon there will be more students in that room than in the actual school. Here take some food and go." He shoved various provisions into Draco's hands and pushed him away. Draco didn't know where the secret passage was. He looked around desperately for a way into the school.

"Merlin's pants! Don't you remember how to get back in? Go through the portrait!

Draco saw a pretty girl walking towards him in a picture. Oh no! What if she recognized him?! He would be in big trouble. But as the picture swung aside to let him through, he saw that there was no one there. She was only part of the picture.

Draco didn't look back as he climbed into the hole and started down the dark, gray hall.


	3. Friends

Draco's heart was racing as he slipped out of the dirty, gray passage. He caught a glimpse of himself in a decorative shield hanging on the wall. If he hadn't been so scared, he would have smiled. He had done a remarkable job of transfiguring himself, especially for someone who had not attended his 7th year at Hogwarts. Nobody would know who he was; possibly even his own mother would not have been able to tell who he was. He was a short, chubby boy who somewhat resembled the idiot Neville Longbottom. He had dark brown hair and big ears. He had given himself a much larger nose, though. He also had freckles and a gap between his two front teeth. He did not look very nice at all, in his opinion. He had decided to tell anyone who asked that he was a Hufflepuff. He decided that this way he would be least noticed.

Draco walked as quickly to the exit as he could without causing suspicion. He was almost there when a short, stubborn-looking Ravenclaw stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked in a surprisingly demanding voice.

"I've got to go, I'll be late to my next class," he replied hurriedly. "Now please let me through. I have to go quickly."

"What?!" She exclaimed and the determination in her eyes turned to fear. "Nobody leaves here! It's too dangerous. If you're anything less than pureblood, you'll be killed!" Draco imagined her as a cartoon. He could just visualize her black, frizzy hair standing up at just the thought of leaving.

"Don't worry," he said. "I don't come here often. I'm just visiting my friend, uh … Neville." He was sure Neville came here. He was the one who brought students here. "Nobody knows I'm here except him. Nobody saw me come in, and I'll be careful leaving."

Her face was still skeptical.

"I'll be careful," he repeated.

"Fine." She shrugged. "Just don't come back here again. We won't let you endanger us anymore. Every time someone walks through this door, the chances we'll be caught are higher. I won't let you put us at risk, and I'm sure Neville wouldn't either."

"I promise I …"

The girl had already turned away.

Neville looked up from the book he was reading as he heard footsteps running towards him. It was Rachel Green, the dark-haired girl from Ravenclaw.

"Hi, Rachel."

Although she was usually very polite to Neville, the "vice-president", as he liked to call her, brushed away his greeting impatiently.

"Neville, did somebody just come visit you, a friend of yours?" she asked anxiously.

He smiled widely. "Rachel, I have many visitors; it's not exactly a quiet room. Besides, anyone in this room is a friend of mine!"

"But Neville, there was this boy, and he was odd, and he wasn't, I mean he doesn't live …" she began, but Neville returned to his reading.


	4. Realizing

Draco ran around the corner, panting for breath. That was close. He knew how risky this could be. If anyone recognized him, he would be in big troube, and he realized how serious it was now. He was really in danger. Catching his breath he looked around. He almost yelled aloud as his icy blue eyes met the dark shadowy ones of Bellatrix Lestrange.

**OK. I know that that was really really short, but I'll be adding another chapter really really soon!**


	5. Realizing More

_Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. The words that came out of her mouth were so sharp that they stabbed Draco like sharp knives._

"_I don't want to hear that you lifted a finger to stop the Dark Lord. Do you understand?"_

_Draco nodded enthusiastically. He did not doubt that his own aunt would kill him if he brought about the downfall of Voldemort. Aunt Bellatrix could be quite scary at times. He did not, however, understand, but her next words made him realize what she meant._

"_I saw what you did when we had Potter at your parents' house." She seemed to be ignoring the fact that _he_ lived there too, but he kept his mouth shut. "You pretended that you were unsure whether it was him or not. But you knew! It was partially YOUR fault that he got away!" He trembled slightly. "There will be none of that at this battle." At the word "battle" she looked around nervously, realizing for the first time that a member of the Order could jump out at any moment. "You will fully support the Dark Lord or you will hide with all the cowards and toddlers at the Hog's Head. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" she asked for the second time, with a bit more urgency._

_His voice would not leave his throat. What could he choose? There was no way out. He was being swallowed alive…_

Draco gasped. It took himself much effort to bring him back to the present. His memories were truly eating him, sucking him into his past. The voices and faces of the victims of the battle were swimming in his head, choking him, and for the first time he realized what it was doing to him. He had not noticed, it seemed almost normal by now, but ever since the war, he had been dwelling on those people and memories. It had been much worse this time. What would he choose? What was important to him? Did he want to bring back those he loved, even Aunt Bellatrix, or did he want to change the outcome of the war? Was it important who won? He decided it wasn't. It was about family and friends. He scolded himself for allowing himself to get so lost in his memories. He could never change the future if he continued returning to the past. But wasn't that what he was doing, by changing things? If he were brave, he would learn to move on without the people he lost. So what? He was not brave. Let the Gryffindors suffer from loss. He was going to make a difference. Draco slipped through the passages of the great school without realizing how brave he truly was.

**See? Told you I would add another chapter soon!**


	6. Wars

He just had to stay. He couldn't get lost again. For an hour already he had been firmly denying himself access to those faces in his mind. Why could he not just be patient? He would see them soon and hopefully save them. He had to remind himself over and over. It was getting more difficult. He truly understood how much he had taken people for granted and now was miserable because they were gone. He was ashamed of himself. Hadn't he always been taught to concentrate on the people who mattered to him? For the past seven years of his life, he had been concentrating on his popularity, broomstick, and embarrassing Potter. He had never given a second thought towards Crabbe and Goyle. They were like statues, more like servants, hired to be his bodyguards, laugh at his jokes that no one else thought to be funny, follow him, looking menacing and cruel. Had he ever once listen to what his friends had to say, their concerns about their classes and other things? He tried to hide the answer from himself, but he knew it. No. He had not. And now one of them was gone forever, doing what he had always done, following Draco's orders. It was even worse with Bellatrix. She was family, his own aunt, and he had not ignored her, but completely avoided her. Yes, she had been a bit . . . well, yes, a **lot** scary, but she was his aunt, and had cared for him, even if he had not seen it always. And now she and Crabbe were gone.

_Stop it, Draco. You can't let yourself be too upset. You'll never get them back if you don't DO something. _**HA!** said another voice in his head. **You're not doing much right now, sitting in a corner, hiding and sulking!** _Well, EXCUSE ME! Not that I can do anything about it! The Battle isn't going to start for a half hour. If I go running around the school right now, I'll probably just be killed! _**Yeah? Well, you could at least think of a plan! **Draco angrily silenced the arguing voices in his head. This wasn't going to help. Immediately, he wished he hadn't stopped the argument. His head was now filled with the blurred images and memories that he often saw when thinking about his dead aunt and friend. The small war inside his head had at least distracted him from his sadness. But he needn't have worried for long, because right then, something sidetracked him. A loud cold blast of sound almost knocked him over, and stunned him so much that he barely heard what was being said. Time had flown. A bigger war was about to begin.

**HI! As you can see, I"ve been writing A LOT! I'm getting excited, I think I know how it's going to end! I know the last chapters were kind of slow, but they were all about Draco discovering who he is, and that will be VERY important in the next two or three chapters. I promise a lot more excitement to come!**

**-Super Snuffles! :)**


	7. Sectumsempra

It would only be a few minutes now. Potter would soon go looking for the diadem. Draco was scared. He hated Potter, didn't he? But somehow he needed to help him, otherwise, Crabbe didn't have a chance. He had to remind himself: What was more important? Enemies or friends? _Friends _he told himself firmly. He had no plan at all, but it was just common sense to change something at the Room of Requirement, so that was where he headed to. He went quickly, not bothering to be quiet, for nobody would hear him over the shrieks and cries of the battle that had just begun. He made it there most of the way without any problems. Then, the wall a few inches from him exploded. Fighting were a few fully qualified students, some underage students who had snuck back into the school, and an Auror that Draco believed was called Kingsley against a few Death Eaters that Draco did not know the names of, Yaxely, and … his eyes widened in horror… _his own father. _ Draco was unsure on what to do. He did not want to fight; he needed to get to the Room of Requirement. Yet he could not just leave. His father was fighting, and although Draco knew that he would be okay, Lucius Malfoy would expect his son to assist him in the battle. He tried to sneak away, but he knew that his father had seen him as he felt a cold stare rest on him. He sighed and hoped that this would not take long.

The two seventh years were average fighters, but they could beat them fairly fast, and the younger students were only a joke, but the real worry was Kingsley. Draco didn't think he would just back down, but he wouldn't likely be killed either. The fight could go on for quite some time.

The cracking of spells filled the air. As Draco had anticipated, one of the sixth years was the first to go. After he got a particularly nasty cut on his left hand, that even Draco wouldn't have winced at, he ran away sobbing hysterically. He wondered, with a mix of slight amusement and extreme annoyance, how it took almost a full minute for four full grown experienced Death Eaters and one very determined handsome blond boy to cause the slightest harm. Soon though with a bit more of confusion and flashing lights, another of the sixth years was hit on the head with a curse and crumpled to the floor. Draco wondered if he was alive. Draco wondered if he cared. The next one to go down came as a surprise. Draco did not see from who the curse came from, but a bright golden light shot out from among the smoke, dust, and debris. It hit one of the Death Eaters on the leg where he had had a previous injury (Draco had noticed he limped on it all the time). He fell to the ground and did not get up. Draco felt his arm begin to tire. He was frustrated. He had been firing curses but none of them seemed to be affecting the other side. He racked his brains for a good one. A memory hit him hard, but it was not one about Bellatrix or Crabbe; it was about himself. The pain. He was ripped open. He remembered why he hated Potter even more that he had than before. Sectumsempra. He cleared his mind. He tried not to think of the pain. It was an awful curse. The greasy slimeball Snape had made it up. The traitor. He tried not to think of all the blood. This was necessary. He took careful aim. "Sectumsempra!" Were the words from his mouth, although his heart was not into it. He missed his target. The fourth year girl leapt aside. The spell hit one of the seventh years and blood gushed out from where he hit her arm. She fell to the ground and although she tried to continue the fight, the loss of blood caused her to faint, though Draco was sure she would survive. He breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to kill anyone; he just wanted to get out of the fight alive. Another seventh year was hit by a combination of spells by Yaxely and his father. Draco had underestimated the fourth year, though. She dodged many curses, blocking the simpler spells, while firing just about everything she knew. One spell that looked a bit like purple fire narrowly missed his head as he shot a curse at Kingsley. He was surprised as the spell hit its target. It immobilized his wand arm. Unable to fight, he was forced to flee. Draco saw his father give him a proud glance. Draco couldn't help feeling good with himself. _If only he knew what I was doing. He wouldn't be happy. _It still felt good to know that his father appreciated him. He didn't show it often.

Only the fourth year was left. Even with no one to help her, she could not be hit. The Death Eaters were angry. They were not doing well. Draco saw that as their frustration and disbelief grew, their spells became quicker and therefore weaker and aimed poorly. Draco would not let his temper get to him. He took aim, took a deep breath, and shot. He saw a familiar blonde boy run by. It was now or never. Sectumsempra moved through the air as if in slow motion. Distracted by a Stupefy shot by Yaxely, the girl was hit on the shoulder. Clutching her arm which was gushing blood, she ran away. Seeing his chance to escape, Draco pretended to run after her to finish her off. When reaching his destination, he turned away from the trail of blood. Sectumsempra had saved him. And he never wanted to use it again.


	8. Pain & Happiness

The footsteps were very soft and light, but they sounded so loud, pounding, pounding, pounding. Even the way her footsteps echoed, loud, yet distant in her head could not compare to the way her own heart beat against her chest. It hit brutally, taking away her breath and blinding her with pain, as her dark hair whipped her face and flew behind her. She was not upset, though. In fact, the pain was caused by true joy, and she embraced it like all the pain she had ever experienced. Pain was not to be taken for granted. It was caused in many ways, but pain never lasted. It always disappeared, whether by healing, passing out, or dying. Bellatrix had felt many kinds of pain. She had felt pain from anger, pain from yearning, pain from jealously, pain from torture, pain from injury, pain from sadness, but never had she felt this. It was almost unbearable. The words spoken had caused her so much happiness, but the simple command given had ripped her heart in two.

"_I am touched by your loyalty, Bellatrix, but it is time for you to join the fight."_

"_But my lord! Don't you think that I should stay to stand guard?" What if Potter or the Order-"_

"_What, Bellatrix? Do you honestly think that I will allow Potter to thwart me again? Or perhaps one of the few left of the Order will manage to find me here?"_

"_No! Of course not, my lord! I was merely thinking that Potter and his friends have used all sorts of trickery in the past. You only have Crabbe to guard you, and I must say, if a threat managed to approach-"_

"_Yes, Crabbe, and also Goyle, will remain here with me. You must go, Bella; I need my strongest warriors in the fight. Besides, to guard me takes much less talent than to battle. We cannot waste your skill on opponents that are unlikely to be a threat."_

_The snake-like man hesitated._

"_This job is dangerous, Bella. Crabbe and Goyle are more of shields than they are guards. If you were to die… I do not want to lose one of my most loyal followers."_

"_Master, if you are in danger… Master, I am only concerned of your safety."_

"_Yes, Bella, I am sure of your loyalty. You have much skill, though, and it is greatly needed in the battle. You are my favorite and most devoted servant and your success will not be ignored. You will certainly be seated at my immediate right."_

Her eyes swam with tears. It had been so hard to obey that voice. He had ordered her to go, but it was not because he wanted her gone.

"…_You are my favorite…"_

She was his favorite Death Eater! There could be no higher honor! Not one that was possible, anyways…

She caught sight of Draco, who had suspiciously appeared out of nowhere. She was actually very fond of her nephew, but his last failure had made her upset with him. She decided to give him a proper warning. It took her a few seconds to forget about her momentary happiness and pain. She strode over angrily, remembering what his failure had cost her beloved master. Draco looked surprisingly relaxed and undaunted. She was momentarily surprised, but she quickly regained her look of rage.

"I don't want to hear that you lifted a finger to stop the Dark Lord. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Aunt Bellatrix."

Bellatrix was surprised again by his respectfulness, but far worse was the way he looked at her in that odd way. It was a look that held pity and amazement, but was empty of all fear. Why was he unafraid? He was usually terrified when she scolded him, but he did not even flinch at her angry lecture.

"I saw what you did when we had Potter at your parents' house."

She nearly stuttered. "You pretended that you were unsure whether it was him or not. But you knew! It was partially YOUR fault that he got away!" She trembled slightly. He had punished them all, including her. The Crucios had not bothered her, but it had hurt her far more to hear him telling her what a failure she was.

"There will be none of that at this battle." She looked around nervously, remembering that anyone could attack them at any moment. "You will fully support the Dark Lord or you will hide with all the cowards and toddlers at the Hog's Head. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" she asked for the second time urgently.

"Yes, Aunt Bellatrix."

She turned away, unable to argue that she had seen untruthfulness in his eyes. She did not like how she had also gotten the feeling that his eyes were telling her whatever he was up to, it was for her own good.

* * *

**Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I know how the story is going to end, but I'm having trouble piecing it together. I also have ideas for other stories and am fighting the temptation to start them until I finish this one. :)**


	9. Too Late

Draco dashed into the cavernous room, a bit daunted from his lecture from Bellatrix, but he knew he had handled it much better than he had the first time. He knew his time was extremely limited before Potter and his friends came, soon to be followed by himself, Crabbe, and Goyle. He did not know how he was going to save Crabbe, but it had something to do with the diadem. He had to get to the diadem. Draco knew exactly what the place looked like. The silver, slightly tarnished tiara sat on top of a chipped bust of an ugly warlock wearing a filthy, blond, curly wig. He just was not sure where. He chose the center path and hurried down it. He searched desperately for familiar surroundings, but he did not see anything. He looked to his right to avoid tripping over a giant, spiked shoe and then he saw it. He stared at it for a minute, soaking it in. If he was looking at the Vanishing Cabinet, then how was he going to get to the diadem? He now had a general idea in which direction to head, but he saw no ways of getting there. Well, he was a wizard, and he was for a reason. "_Reducto!" _he shouted, and he blasted through the wall of boxes. He leapt over the scattered debris, coughing as he inhaled the dust and smoke. He looked around frantically and saw a muddy green pole with many odd hats on it. He remembered the diadem being a bit further on, so he veered right and scampered further into the winding labyrinth of hidden objects. He passed the dead bird, the bottles of firewhiskey, the dreadful painting of a five-legged zebra, the anti-gravity boots, the moldy muggle books, and the dragon-ant farm. He was almost there; he could feel it. Finally, he saw the diadem gleaming in its mysterious ancient way through the dimly lit room. He grabbed it and felt chills running up his arm. Draco knew this was because it was a horocrux; Harry had told his entire story after the final battle between him and the Dark Lord.

He dashed back to the entrance of the room, the tarnished tiara gripped tightly in his hand. What was he going to do with it? He spotted a bright red, flashing hook hanging on a wall right on the wall across from the door. He gasped. Could it really be that simple? He slowly hung the diadem on the hook, almost afraid that it would explode or something like that, but it just hung there, swaying slightly. He heard the door form on the other side and he dove behind a stack of boxes, as three people stepped into the room.

"There it is, Harry!" yelled the blood traitor, Weasley. "It's right there!"

Well, that was easy.

"Wait!" shrieked the Granger girl. "It could be a trap! Voldemort knew that Harry knew it was the diadem and Harry said it was on the bust of a warlock that had a wig! Didn't you say that, Harry?"

Draco swore at her under his breath. The stupid little mudblood had to ruin everything, even when they were on the same side!

"Well, there's only one way to find out," said Harry. Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the trio walking to the hook on the wall. Two of the pairs of footsteps stopped and hung back; Draco guessed that it was Weasley and Granger. Potter took the last few steps and Draco heard a small metallic clinking as he removed the crown from the wall. For a moment, there was not a sound.

Then Granger spoke. "Well…I suppose it's all right, then?"

No, really?

"I suppose so," agreed Weasley. "Wow, Harry, you must have a secret ally somewhere."

"Let's be thankful we were so lucky," he replied "and that there's someone looking out for us." Draco could not help smiling to himself as the footsteps faded. He was not smiling long, though. As quickly as their footsteps disappeared, new ones reappeared, students seeking refuge from the fight. Draco sat there behind the boxes, willing them to leave, but they did not, and he grew desperate. He did not know how long he crouched there for, his legs growing stiff and numb; it could have been one hour, or three. When they plucked up enough courage to reenter the fight, he knew. He sat there, gone of all feeling, mentally and physically. Even if he had been able to get up, there was nothing he could have done. There was not enough time left. He had saved Crabbe's life, but he barely rejoiced at the thought as hopelessness spread over him. He had not done enough.

Bellatrix would die.

**Sorry that it's been a while; something I installed on my laptop messed it up, but I figured out the problem and it's all better now! By the way, the story isn't over, there's more!**


	10. Glance

It was fury. He was livid with himself and everyone else in the world. He had been so sure that Potter would come, but it would seem that he would not. He asked himself why. He was sure that he knew about the Horocruxes and he had succeeded in killing all but Nagini, so why was Potter not coming? He would have to come if he wanted to kill the precious snake, for she was always by him, and they would certainly see him if he tried to kill Nagini, even if he was under his invisibility cloak, for any spell would give his location. Voldemort wanted to yell and scream, slashing his wand through the air and ending the lives of almost everyone he could lay a hand on. However, he did not do that. He sat majestically and proudly in his seat, terrifying in his mysterious way, calm and controlled. It was what people feared most about him, when they had no clue what he was thinking or what he would do.

He gazed around his circle of followers. They had not suffered many losses, but there were a few injuries. The only one who did not seem to be hurt was his most loyal, Bellatrix. She did not even look like she had come from a battle, aside from some of her enemies' blood, dried on her arms. Her face was not flushed, nor did she seem exhausted, but he was sure she had been fighting with all her strength, because he had occasionally gazed inside his Death Eaters' minds. In fact, it had seemed to him that she had been fighting the most successfully of all. Now she sat closest to him, her eyes bravely set upon his face, eyes glittering from the excitement of the fight and mockery towards the others for keeping their distance and avoiding his gaze. Bella had never been truly afraid of him. She treated him with upmost respect, and fled when he was in one of his tantrums, but she was not truly frightened by him. Maybe it was the reason she did better than the others. Her servitude was out of loyalty, and the others acted upon fear and commitment. Bellatrix did not do missions and tasks because she was forced to; she did them because it was an honor to.

She looked up at him and gave a reassuring smile that plainly said, "He will come. You are the Dark Lord and you think he will come, so he will come." He saw the trust in her deep brown eyes. Her gentle gaze calmed him down and extinguished some of his anger. These were his servants and they trusted him; at least Bella did. He was Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard that lived. It was ridiculous to think that if not today, then someday soon, he would not succeed in killing a teenage boy. His heart pumped a bit faster, stronger, when she raised her chin in pride for her master. She knew, as well as him, that he was unbeatable. She turned her head to watch the trees, and her long hair obscured her face from his view. He also turned his attention to the forest beyond.

_He will come. He will come. He knows that if anyone is to kill me, it is he. He will come and I will defeat him. _He repeated these thoughts to himself in between short, impatient comments to the Death Eaters surrounding him. However, after a while he began to lose faith. Potter would not be coming after all.

His fears were confirmed when Dolohov and Yaxley returned from where they had kept watch.

"No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov, face cast towards the ground in fear. He cringed as Voldemort twisted the Elder Wand in his hands, but Voldemort had no intention to curse him. It was Potter he wanted, and only Potter. He felt rage burning through him like a forest fire, but his expression remained impassive. He would not show any weakness or sign of emotion around his Death Eaters.

"My Lord —"

Bellatrix had turned to face him once more, her eyes full of concern and respect, but he had motioned for silence. She seemed slightly disappointed, but maintained her dignified appearance. Voldemort was half-regretting that he had cut her off, for he was wondering what she had intended to say, but he did not want his other servants to start talking as well. He wanted silence, though he was not sure for what reason. After a few moments he spoke.

"I thought he would come," he said in his cold, clear voice. "I expected him to come." His words were almost whispers, but his followers hung on to every word, Bellatrix in particular, but nobody dared to speak a word, not even his bravest Death Eater, who happened to be the only female in the group at the moment.

"I was, it seems . . . mistaken." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Bellatrix's face reflecting protest, though she did not utter a single sound.

"You weren't," spoke a voice from the shadows, and out stepped Harry Potter. To the Dark Lord's great annoyance, his servants began to shriek and laugh, mocking and yelling. Bella, though, seemed to understand the importance of the situation, and remained silent, though she was breathing heavily and was now on her feet.

To add to the racket, the giant oaf Hagrid began to bellow from where he was bound to a tree. Voldemort was quite pleased when Rowle performed a silence charm on him.

Voldemort glanced over towards Bellatrix. Her pale hands were curled into fists, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and her eyes were locked on his. This seemed to be the moment she was waiting for. Voldemort felt his heart skip a beat. _I have anticipated this moment for too long. There is no reason to be excited. Potter had lived too long, _he thought, though his heart's pace rose even more, as Bella's eyes widened, and the circle grew tense.

"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived," he breathed, more to himself than to anyone else, though he saw both Potter and Bellatrix react to the words as he raised his wand slowly. He tilted his head slightly to one side. This was the baby that he failed to murder. This was the small boy prevented him from stealing the Sorcerer's Stone. This was that teenager who thwarted his plans so many times. And now he was a man. As men, as true equals, they would fight, and the Dark Lord would finally triumph. He glanced at Bella once more. He thought he saw a small nod and smile as he took a breath. This was the end of Harry Potter.

"Avada Kedavra." He whispered, and the flash of green light hit his enemy. Before he blacked out and crumpled to the ground, he saw Bella's terrified face.

* * *

**Oooh... it's getting close to being done! Yay! This was my longest chapter so far!**


	11. Not Enough Time

**Wow. This is a lot longer than I thought it would be. Please enjoy, because it took a hell of a long time to write!**

It was dark. Very dark. He was sore and aching and he did not know what to do. He didn't know who he was. His throat was dry and raw, yet he wailed in his pitiful voice. There was a sound. It was shuffling, walking. It made steady tapping sounds. There were also voices, one wise, one young. The mumbling faded in and out. He could not understand the voices. They were loud, but he did not know what they were saying. Words were nothing. He could not understand. His head felt light. The voices were still going. He wailed again, and it seemed to bring back some of his senses. It was a boy and a man. The man was crying. His head cleared a bit. Voldemort heard Harry and Dumbledore speaking and their faces swam tauntingly in his head. The pain was now much sharper. He would have understood what Harry and Dumbledore were saying to each other, but the new pain was driving out his other senses. He lay there pathetically for minutes, but slowly his remaining senses faded along with the pain.

When Voldemort remained consciousness, he saw Bella kneeling over him, her hand drawing away from his wrist, most likely after checking his pulse to determine if he was alive. Her other hand rested on his forehead. Her lips were parted in concern, yet there were small tears of relief in her eyes. When she realized he was awakening, she drew her hand back guiltily, as if she was ashamed of touching him without his consent. He then was aware of the cool, rough soil beneath him, and the footsteps and whispers.

"My Lord . . . My Lord," she murmured softly. She hesitated slightly and held out her hand in assistance, while partially rising to her feet. Voldemort felt that he should act stronger, and more dignified, but he became dizzy as he looked into her fearful face, so he took her hand and allowed her to pull him gently to his feet. He was surprised by her caring and gentleness. She had always appeared to him as harsh, torturing without mercy, yet now he saw a very different side, treating him as a fragile, precious treasure.

"That will do," he said, and he knew that only Bella had heard him say, "thank you" to her softly. He turned unsteadily, looking around, and he suspected Bellatrix saw him almost collapse, for she remained at her spot by his side, instead of returning to her proper place in the circle, which was strangely empty, due to the deaths of Severus Snape, and Bellatrix's own husband, Rodulphus Lestrange. Rodulphus's death pleased him a bit. Voldemort figured it was because he had never been a very skilled wizard.

"The boy . . . is he dead?" he asked, yet for some reason, it seemed oddly irrelevant. He pointed his wand at Narcissa Malfoy, but withdrew his decision to curse her when he heard Bellatrix gasp. "You. Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa nodded briefly and hurried over to Potter's body. Voldemort saw her check for a pulse and listen for breathing. After a few seconds of listening for a heartbeat, she proclaimed, "He is dead!"

The group yelled and screeched in triumph, walking around the place in celebration. Even, he, Voldemort, laughed coldly and softly. The Death Eaters shot the Dark Mark into the sky and then sent sparks up following it. Bellatrix was laughing so loud, that he did not doubt that the whole world could hear her. Her wand was also raised in celebration, sending silver stars and green lights far above the others', and way over the treetops. Voldemort felt good and decided to speak.

"You see? Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"

Potter's body flipped around in the air, and Voldemort saw his glasses fly off before he dropped him to the ground. Now they would show the world they had won. "Now, we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body?"

Dragging the body was not enough for him, though. He wanted everyone to know right away of his victory, so he summoned the half-giant to him and ordered him to carry Potter. As he did so, Bellatrix ran forward with Potter's glasses and slammed them onto his face with a dazzling smile. Voldemort did not think he had ever seen her so happy. She was radiant with joy.

He cleared his throat. "Move," was the only thing he managed to say, so they moved forward. Bellatrix ran right by his right side as he had promised. He noticed she was the only one at his pace, with the exception of Hagrid, for he moved very fast and it was too much of an effort for the other Death Eaters to remain right behind him; they gradually drew back, yet remained close. The victory had seemed to give Bellatrix an endless supply of energy, though, and she ran through the long stretch of woods, as the servants marched behind and Hagrid began to bellow at the centaurs in the trees.

He asked softly so only Bella could hear, "Why do you do it?" She seemed to know what he meant and she looked at him, answering with her eyes that were full of joy, but also sadness, along something else.

He was not very surprised. He had suspected . . . no, he had known all along that he was more than a master to Bellatrix. She had feelings for him. He almost felt a bit of pity for her. Didn't she know that the only man that she cared for was the one who could never care for her in the same way? What she felt was a weakness, and he would never feel that; the Dark Lord was not weak.

Voldemort practically flew in anticipation, as the entrance hall grew closer. Bella dashed along at his side. He had already decided not to tell how Potter had peculiarly walked right into the circle of Death Eaters, but to humiliate the Muggle-lovers even more by putting their heroic leader into a bad light. He thought, _Sonorus_, to himself and then spoke.

"Harry Potter is dead," he boomed proudly. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.

"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

It took a moment to sink in: it was over. The war was over and the noble Death Eaters had won. There would be no more fighting, no more blood, or losses, or conflict. The whole world would bow down to him and he would be master of everything. He looked at Nagini hovering above his head in her enchanted cage. She would be safe now. He gently let her down and onto his shoulders. He ordered everyone to come and they rushed on, Bella and himself passing the giant and body of Potter. Hagrid had begun crying over Potter's body. He smirked slightly at that, and saw Bella wearing the same expression on her face. The oaf was a muggle-loving fool, and they both knew it.

"Stop," he commanded when they were in plain view of the school. A few seconds later the doors to the entrance hall flew open and light flooded across the area.

The shocked look on McGonagall's face quickly turned to pain and horror as she saw her former student in Hagrid's arms.

"NO!" she cried and she seemed unable to move, she remained stationary where she stood, tears streaming down her dirty face. Bellatrix laughed beside him, enjoying how much pain they had inflicted upon the muggle-lovers and blood-traitors. He quietly chuckled as well, and began to stroke Nagini absentmindedly.

"No!" sobbed the Weasley girl, running out from behind McGonagall. Tears were also running down her face.

"_No!_" The yell came from both the mudblood and the Weasley boy. Wonderful. Potter's friends would be the next to die, a mudblood and two blood-traitors. But he must be patient. Yes, he would get his chance.

"Harry!"

"HARRY!"

"Oh no!"

"No! No, no, no! Not Harry!"

"He can't be dead!"

"Harry!"

"The Death Eaters got him!"

"HARRY! HARRY!"

"No!"

"Those ugly Death Eaters killed him!"

"Harry!"

"You-Know-Who killed him!"

"Those awful Death Eaters!"

"He was only seventeen and those idiots murdered him!"

"Voldemort did this!"

"That evil half-blood!"

"SILENCE!" roared Voldemort as the crowd began to insult his servants, himself, and his blood-status. He was bubbling with anger as he cast a Silencing charm on the lot. Did those idiots not understand that he had won? Did they not know that he would not tolerate this? Did they think that he would not kill them for saying things like that? He decided to make himself clear.

"It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs! You see? Harry Potter is dead!" He began to walk around the body. "Do you understand now, deluded ones?" He gestured at the boy lying on the ground. "He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled one of his enemies, and the rest began to shout as well. So they thought they would revolt, did they? He could easily suppress them. He set off another Silencing charm, more powerful this time, and the crowd fell silent once again.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," he said, for he wanted nobody to believe that Potter was brave, "killed while trying to save himself -"

He stopped as a small boy stumbled out from the mass of students, teachers, and members of the Order. He looked familiar. His hair was long and brown, his ears were rather large, and he had many injuries, some old and beginning to heal, and some fresh from the battle. Voldemort did not contemplate his appearance for long, because he began to run towards him with the intention of attack. Voldemort quickly Disarmed him and knocked him to the ground with a furious swish of his wand, and laughed.

In an audible, dangerous whisper he asked, "Who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

He was not surprised to hear Bellatrix answer.

She laughed happily, and Voldemort was sure he was not the only one to feel shivers travel up his spine at her thrilled cackle.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

Yes, he was the son of the couple Bellatrix had tortured so successfully that they were now insane, the couple she had tortured on her frantic, loyal search to find him when Potter had beat him for the first time…

"Ah, yes, I remember," he replied, for he did, very well. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort was not truly interested in the boy's blood status; he was just taunting the boy for pleasure. He was certain that Longbottom wanted nothing to do with him.

"So what if I am?" Oh yes, this would be enjoyable.

"You show brave spirit, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!"

The crowd also cheered.

He had not expected such a bold retort from the blood-traitor, and was extremely upset that his Silencing charms were unable to control the group. He spoke softly, but in a way that pierced fear through his enemies' hearts. "Very well. If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it."

He Summoned the Sorting Hat from the headmaster's office. It flew into his hand. He was regretting his choice already, but this would be the best way to control the problem students, even by ending a noble tradition…

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts school. There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?"

He silently froze the annoying creature and pulled the hat onto Neville's head with magic.

"Neville here is going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to oppose me," he said casually as he thought _Incendio!_ to himself. Neville and the hat caught on fire and he laughed along with his Death Eaters as screams sounded all around at the sight of the figure in flames, but something happened that he never would have expected.

Battle broke out. Giants, centaurs, witches, and wizards streamed towards each other in complete chaos. Among the commotion, Voldemort was surprised and infuriated as the Longbottom fool fell, as he broke free of the curse holding him. In the next second, he pulled the blazing hat off his alarmingly unharmed head, and pulled from within it the amazing sword of Gryffindor, something the Dark Lord had wanted his entire life. Everyone turned as the sword glinted and came down upon the snake around his neck. Everything seemed too loud as Nagini's head disconnected from her long body and spun into the air, far louder than even the cries of battle should have been. He stared for a moment at the scaly figure at his feet, feeling vulnerable. His last Horocrux was gone. He was only as mortal as the man dying a few feet away from him. He had not even felt his soul die.

If he thought his fear and fury could not be any worse, then he was proven wrong moments later. He stared over to the spot where his victim had been lying, and he was gone. Potter had disappeared. He began to throw spells at random enemies while searching frantically for Potter, yet he did not fail to notice the Malfoys running, not even fighting, looking for Draco. He would deal with them later.

* * *

Draco was dreading this moment. He knew the battle would happen of course, for he had done nothing to prevent it. He just could not believe he had failed. Were friends more important than family? Because he had saved Crabbe before Bellatrix, and now his aunt was certain to die.

He saw the house-elves stream out from the kitchens, dragging Death Eaters down everywhere. Despite the situation, he smirked. He had never liked house-elves much, but he had to admit, he admired their spunk. Then he spotted Voldemort. He was already battling McGonagall and Slughorn, and although he could not see Kingsley anywhere, he assumed that he too was fighting the Dark Lord.

The time was drawing close. There was nothing he could do, but to watch his aunt fall bravely for a second time.

Then he was surprised. He did not know how it happened, but somebody stepped on Harry's Invisibility Cloak and it slipped off him. Then his own friends made it harder for him by screaming, "Harry!" Voldemort heard and abandoned his duel with the professors and sprinted over to where Harry was, waving his wand.

Draco was startled by a thunderous shout. "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

Mrs. Weasley had already begun to duel Bellatrix. In less than a minute, his aunt would be dead.

* * *

Voldemort could not believe his luck. A running passerby had pulled Potter's Invisibility Cloak off him. Now a wall of remaining Death Eaters blocked him from escape. He was at the Dark Lord's mercy, his eyes wide in terror, barely stopping himself from pleading. This was it. Harry Potter would finally die.

* * *

Bellatrix laughed at her new challenger. Did Molly Weasley actually think she could defeat the Dark Lord's best servant? That poor, dumpy woman would defeat _Bellatrix_ out of anger for one little Killing Curse? Of course, she could not! The mere thought was ridiculous! Bellatrix battled with ease until the mother sent a particularly harmful curse at her that she was barely able to block. She felt the smile on her face fade away. So this was how it was going to be, was it? She would have no choice but to kill yet another of her dear cousins, before her cousin killed her. Jets of light began to fly back and forth with alarming speed as their anger increased.

* * *

Draco knew that Bellatrix was seconds away from death, but what could he do? He was unfamiliar with the curse that would kill his aunt. There was no way to end the fight without being killed himself. All he could do was watch the two fight and yell at one another.

He recognized the moment as soon as it came.

Bellatrix laughed hysterically at Mrs. Weasley's response to one of her taunts. Molly's curse flew towards Aunt Bellatrix.

But Bellatrix caught herself before the curse hit, and she ducked quickly, and it soared over her head.

Draco gasped. Perhaps it was not all for nothing. Molly Weasley must have used the same curse twice; otherwise, Bellatrix would not still be alive. Could he possibly be able to save her if he thought quickly?

* * *

Voldemort saw Bellatrix still dueling nearby. He lowered his wand slightly. She had stuck with him until the end, and he wanted her to be there when he killed Potter. He had complete faith that she would finish off her opponent at any moment and run to him, unharmed. As soon as he thought this to himself, though, Bellatrix was forced to roll onto the floor to avoid being hit. He gasped. Whatever she had done, Weasley must be extremely angry with her to fight with such skill. Bellatrix leapt back to her feet, but she was clearly off balance. Her curses went flying in the wrong direction, and she swayed on the spot dizzily.

A jet of light hit her in the face.

He had not seen the spell correctly, but it had seemed to be blue . . . or green.

Whatever it was, he knew it was not good. Bellatrix was blown back off her feet, and she flew up in the air before crumpling to the ground.

Every face was turned towards the spot. A few of his Death Eaters even fainted from the shock of Bellatrix being beaten. He willed for her to move. She did not.

A million thoughts flew through his mind within a second.

_I cannot go to her. Potter is here and if I do not kill him now, he will surely escape from the few Death Eaters left. Besides, she will be fine. No, she is not. She just was knocked out. She will get back up. No, she will not. She is dead. So? There is nothing I can do. Weasley ran. I can't kill her. You could go to Bellatrix; she might be alive. No, there is nothing I can do. She is dead for sure. Nobody survives the Killing Curse, except Potter, and that was ancient magical protection that Bella did not have. I need to kill Potter. But she i . . . I ca . . .I l . . ._

He made up his mind. He would never have another chance. He turned from Potter and darted to the spot where Bella was lying stationary on the ground. His wand, his most powerful tool, his only defense slipped from his sweaty fingers. His response was automatic. He ran on without it.

He did not give a thought to what he was doing as he skidded to the spot. He slid onto his knees, so close to the ground, so undignified; he would have never imagined that he would be almost bowing to one of his servants.

But had she been a servant? Was she a slave, like the others? No. She was not. She had been a follower, his very best, but never a slave. She was worth more than that. He looked down at her. Had he ever even given her a second glance? Sure, he had looked at her, noticing her expressions to see what she thought of his decisions, but he had never really looked at her face before. He gently picked her up and turned her over. Her flesh, though surely cooling, still felt pleasantly warm on his own icy skin. He kept her delicate fingers in his hand.

Her eyes were partially open, almost as if she was dozing off. He had never noticed what a beautiful brown they were. They reminded him almost of a rusted Knut, but in a pretty way, with gold-ish bronze specks on a light chocolaty brown. Her eyelashes were long and thick. Her slightly parted lips were naturally scarlet; he had noticed that before, though now they were lighter than usual. The teeth underneath were pearly white. Her face itself was a unique and beautiful shape. It had a pretty, yet strong look to it, and he saw that she did not share her sister's pointed chin. Her skin was dark yet light; it almost looked as if someone had put moonlight on pure gold.

He was feeling pain that he had never felt before and it was a curious thing. It was not physical pain. He had not cuts or broken bones. His lungs were not begging for air. His eyes and chest did not sting from smoke. It was not the pain he had felt when Nagini had fallen at his feet, or when he had discovered his Horocruxes to be destroyed. This was not from loss of limb or possession. It was not loss of ownership over something he cared about. For the first time, he was feeling from loss of a person, a human being, dare he say it: an equal. And he knew it was the truth. Bellatrix had not been his servant, his possession for a long time. She had grown on him, with her charm and spunk.

How stupid he had been! And he marveled for a second. He was actually blaming _himself. _He was finding _faults_ in _himself_. However, it was true. He had been an idiot. He loved power and nothing but it, and he had been unable to see past that. He had never treasured humans, and he doubted that he did now. But Bella was special. She had always been loyal and she had always loved him. Why did he not try to befriend her when given the chance just a while ago when walking through the forest? She was a special woman and he knew that he had thrown that chance away. Bellatrix was gone.

For the first time since he had been an infant, Tom Marvolo Riddle shed a tear. It landed on Bella's lips. And once the first had fallen onto her face, they could not stop, nor did he try to stop them. They cascaded down his cheeks, slashing on his hands, her face, the ground and his shoulders shook.

He did not think much. Pain was blocking out his thoughts. All he knew was that his best friend, his only friend in the world was gone. It tore at his heart. He regretted everything he had ever done. He wanted to die.

_Oh, Bella, I'm sorry for everything! I'm just so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!_

His heart burned with pain and guilt. What was he talking about? Bella was not his friend. He did not like her like a friend or sister. He _loved_ her. It was love, the one thing that he had always said was weak, but he knew he could not have been right, for he felt as if he could now tear trees from the ground with his own bare hands.

He could have only loved her, for no other pain could be as strong as he was feeling.

_I love you, Bella. I'm sorry. I love you._

* * *

If Harry could not believe he had gotten away, he could not believe what he was seeing now. Voldemort was on the ground, staring at Bellatrix's body, holding her limp hand, now crying. What the hell was going on? Was there something that he had never seen in him before, some return of the adoration that Bellatrix had given him?

He became aware of Ron and Hermione standing beside him, but he did not look at them, for dark shapes had begun to form above. They were not clouds; they were like wandering, restless shadows.

"What-?" he began to ask, but he was at a loss for words.

"H . . . H-Harry." Hermione's voice sounded odd. "I-I . . . I . . . I . . . think he's . . . showing r-remorse!"

"WHAT? But what- he doesn't have all the pieces of his soul! What's going to happen?"

Ron spoke up. His voice was also weird. "I think there's your answer, mate."

The dark shapes began to circle around faster and faster. All of the sudden, they began to swirl around very fast, and drops of red fell from them that were immediately zapped by flashes of green light that also came from the odd forms. Dark ashes rained from the figures.

There was a brilliant flash of light, and the forms were turned pure white. They rushed down onto him, but he did not seem to notice, and his tears continued to fall. He was surrounded in light. Everyone watched in awe and confusion.

"Is this . . . ?" Harry hesitated.

"Is his soul healing?" Hermione asked for him. "I think it is somehow. I never read anything about what happens if the pieces of a soul are destroyed, but the light seems to be what all the books describe about the healing process. It would seem that his soul has come back to life."

"Souls can come back?"

"It would . . . seem that way," she repeated unsurely.

There were four flashes of light, first green, then red, then pink, and finally a flash of the most beautiful, pure, brilliant white, that lasted longest of all. As it faded away, there were many gasps. The man on the ground was not longer bald and icy white with red eyes. He was now a healthy pale with brown hair and eyes that were clearly showing pain. He did not have seemed to notice any change in himself; all he saw was the only person he had ever loved on the floor before him. His head was tilted downwards and his tears continued to fall.

He no longer looked like a snake; he was the older version of the handsome Tom Riddle still at school.

* * *

He heard gasps, but he took no note of them, nor did he contemplate their meaning. He simply stared at his Bella, dear Bella, dead, gone forever.

He was not sure it he was dreaming, but it seemed as if he was seeing her, yet again, in a new light. Her cheeks seemed to have gained a bit of color and her lips looked scarlet again. Her eyes gave the illusion of sparkling. He decided he must be imagining for sure when they opened. They scanned his face for a moment, then widened as she gasped. She shook her head a bit and her dark curls brushed his hand.

Judging by the gasps all around, he was not seeing things. As he jumped to his feet, he heard scuffling, footsteps and rustling, but it did not matter; nothing mattered except that by some miracle, some glorious, wonderful, impossible miracle, his lovely Bella was breathing, moving, living in front of him. He bent down and pulled her up, in a daze, and he grabbed her gently as she began to wobble, and he let her lean on him for support. They stared into each other's eyes, venturing into their souls, looking into the windows of their minds, feeling every emotion combined as they stared at the only one they had ever loved. And nothing, NOTHING could break the powerful connection, to spoil the moment. That is, except . . .

"NO!"

The couple looked up, startled. He managed to catch Bella before she fell, and he quickly pulled her to the ground, shielding her with his own body, as he looked at the hundreds of wands pointed in their faces.

Harry was the one who had spoken. He felt bad. Why had he murdered the boy's parents? He had broken two people apart, and now he and Bella would be broken apart, too. People didn't deserve that. Why hadn't he seen that it was best to leave people be?

"Harry!" It was McGonagall. "How can you possibly stand up for these people?" She, like the rest, looked extremely upset and confused.

"Yeah, Harry! These are them no good people tha' murdered yer folks an' godfather! How can yeh let them live?"

Harry spoke softly. "It's because I see my mum and dad in them."

Hermione's face showed plain shock. "But Harry! How can you possibly say that! That's an insult to your parents!"

"No," said Harry. "It isn't. They've done bad things, plenty of them, but I see the same connection between them. They love each other. Love has saved me my whole life. How could I rip it away from anyone? Besides, he could have killed me. He didn't."

"Well," said McGonagall, "you have suffered the most of all of us and I believe you have the right to make the final choice. Still . . . Oh, Harry! Just choose wisely! Remember who this man is! Remember what he has done! This is Voldemort here!"

"But if his soul's healed . . ." Ron trailed off, looking embarrassed. Harry nodded to show he approved. He continued for Ron.

"I'll always remember what Voldemort has done, but this isn't Voldemort. He has felt love and remorse. His soul has healed. Voldemort never felt those things. This is Tom Riddle."

With that, he turned away and his friends followed. Everyone else lowered their wands, some reluctantly, but they all seemed to have understood and respected what Harry said, some even looked as if they had truly taken the words to heart. Tom's eyes did not linger long on them, though. He soon turned back to Bella.

"Bella," he began.

"She dipped her head. "Master . . ."

He put a finger to her lips. "No. I am nobody's master, especially not yours. I love you, Bellatrix, and I intend for you always to be my equal. To everyone else, I am Mr. Riddle. To you, I am Tom."

She looked up at him. Ah, yes. She had beautiful eyes. Tom and Bellatrix drew closer and closer, barely apart, glittering teardrops drying on their eyelashes, forgetting everything around them . . .

* * *

Draco was completely shocked, not only on Voldemort's choice, but also on the fact that his aunt had even survived. Here was no magic to raise the dead, not even love could do that, yet Bellatrix was alive. He wondered what had caused her to survive. It completely astounded him as he realized what it was. He _had_, by fate, saved Aunt Bellatrix. It had been a complete accident, but by injuring Kingsley, he had saved her life. He had noted earlier, the fact that her face was not bloody as it had been originally. Now he remembered that in the unchanged version of events, Kingsley had later dueled Bellatrix and cut her forehead, and she had lost a lot of blood, which made her weaker. Since he battled Kingsley and injured his wand arm, he had been unable to fight for the remainder of the time, and had not hurt Bellatrix. Bellatrix was then stronger, and dodged whatever deadly curse was thrown at her, instead being hit by the blue-ish green spell he now recognized as a Mind-Freezing Charm, often mistaken for the Killing Curse because of the similarity in color.

Potter's Cloak, on the other hand, was simply pulled off because he was in a different place at a different time, thanks to have having found the diadem so quickly.

But it had all worked out, hadn't it?

He saw many couples locked in embrace, Voldemort, or Tom now, and Bellatrix included. He had saved his family and friends, but there was more to that, wasn't there? He was looking for someone else as well. As if an answer to his thoughts, Astoria Greengrass, the girl he had been talking to for a few months before the battle, showed up. He looked at her and he knew they were feeling the same thing as each other, the same thing everyone else was feeling, in the room, in the country, all over the world. They were pulled together like a magnet, but more than that, more powerful than magic, too. They drew together and love did the rest, told them to look into each other's eyes, and close the remaining space between them.

Draco kissed the girl he someday wished to marry, as did Harry, Ron, and Tom, because life was short. There was not enough time, and he wasn't going to waste another moment.

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**It's not the end yet! One more chapter! If anyone has any questions, please ask them in reviews, and I will answer all I can on my Profile page. I hope you enjoyed my longest chapter by far and don't forget to review and suscribe! Thank you so much for everything, because it's the readers who keep me wirting when I feel like giving up!**

**Don't forget, one more chapter, and then I've got LOADS of more ideas! (Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!)**

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	12. Nineteen Years Later

**NINETEEN YEARS LATER**

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It was a lovely fall day, crisp and beautiful. He sighed happily as they walked, pushing the trolley. His lovely wife smiled at him and he returned it. He looked down at his son.

Scorpius was almost an exact younger version of himself. He had blond hair, a pointed chin, a pale face, and light blue eyes, though his son's nose was slightly smaller than his own was, and his eyes and mouth were the same shape as his mother's features. Their precious only child walked with a proud strut, and Astoria and Draco smiled at each other once more, remembering that Draco used to walk in the same manner.

Scorpius stopped and looked up at his father uncertainly as they reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Draco gave him a nod, and Scorpius winced as he led his parents through the wall, although he knew the crash would not come. He opened his eyes and Draco saw his eyes widen in amazement as he spotted the scarlet steam engine for the first time in his life. After looking for a signal from his father, he grabbed his trunk and hurried to store it on the train before rushing back to his parents' sides.

"Do you think they're coming?" Astoria whispered to him.

"Yes, Harry's starting school this year, and I heard that Amorella is going into her third year now," he replied.

Scorpius returned and said, "You'll write to me, right? I don't really want to leave you. And what if I'm not in Slytherin?"

"Don't worry, dear," said Astoria. "You'll be fine. We don't care what House you're in; it doesn't really matter. No matter where you are, you'll learn just as much. You can come home for the holidays and I'm sure you'll make many friends."

"And speaking of friends," said Draco, "here are some of them, now."

Rushing along were two dark haired children, followed by their mother, father, and another child trailing behind.

Draco rushed forward to shake hands with the man and hug the woman. "Hello, Tom. Hello, Aunt Bellatrix."

"Oh, Draco, it's so good to see you!" exclaimed his aunt. She was slightly paler than usual, he noticed, but she looked happier than ever. She squeezed him very tight. "And Astoria! Oh, there's so much to tell you!"

"Good morning Draco," said Tom. He looked well, and although he was not ecstatic like his wife, he also seemed to be in a good mood. "Mrs. Malfoy." He nodded to her in greeting and then turned to the boy beside Draco.

"This must be Scorpius. You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you. You look very much like your father."

Meanwhile, the two women were hugging each other as Bellatrix was chatting excitedly and Astoria listening with bright eyes and a big smile.

"And we've met Amorella, of course," Draco replied, smiling at the oldest child, a pretty girl who was tall and slim with long, straight, black hair. She smiled back, but seemed to be more interested in a red-haired girl across the station, and she was waving to her enthusiastically as they beamed at each other. Draco remembered wanting to get back to his friends, too, when he was at school.

"And I suppose this is Harry," he said, looking at the boy who was equally as tall as his older sister was. He looked as alike as Tom, as Scorpius did to him. "I haven't seen you since you were just born." His eyes traveled over to the small girl who was holding hands with a copy of herself. They looked exactly like Bellatrix; there was not the slightest difference in appearance. "Oh, these must be the twins. I've never seen them before. They're four now, am I correct?" Tom nodded.

"Yes, this is Hope and Peace, and they'll be four in a few months. Draco, we've just found out; it's another boy, and we're wondering if we could name it Draco. After all, we owe our lives to you."

"Another baby? That's wonderful. Congratulations! I would be honored if you named him Draco."

"Good. Bella will be pleased. It's due late spring, by the way."

The whistle sounded. They hurried to load the rest of the luggage onto the train and then to say goodbye.

"Here, Bellatrix. Let me take that for you."

"There we are. That's the last one."

"Everyone ready?"

"MOM!" yelled Scorpius. "It's Albus! I see him, Mum! Can I go say hi?" Harry gasped. Apparently, he was friends with Albus, too.

"Not right now dear, don't worry; you'll see him on the train. We don't have much time. Now say goodbye, and then it'll be time to go."

"'Bye, Hope. 'Bye, Peace. Goodbye Mr. and Mrs. Riddle."

He hugged his mother and father. Wish had already said goodbye, and was on the train. Harry was also hugging his parents.

"Goodbye, son," said Tom. "Watch it; don't hug your mother too tight." However, Bellatrix shooed her husband off with a scolding smile and kissed the top of her son's head.

"Goodbye, dear. We'll write to you."

"'Bye, Mum and Dad. C'mon Scorpius, we don't want to miss the train."

Bellatrix had her hands clasped together and she had tears in her eyes.

"It's always so hard when they leave."

The whistle blew again, and the train took off. Wish and the boys waved out the window.

"Goodbye!" yelled Scorpius.

"'Bye, everyone!" shouted Harry. "Take care of my brother, Mum!"

"Don't worry, dear!"

The train disappeared around the corner.

"Come on girls," said Bellatrix. "It's time to go." They all walked away holding hands. Draco sighed.

"He'll be O.K."

Draco looked at his wife. "I know."

His heart had not hurt ached in nineteen years. All was well.

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-end-

**I hoped everyone enjoyed! Look out for my new story, The Luckiest, which should be starting soon!**


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